The Bi/Trans/Pans Debate: Why Respecting Everyone Matters

I have a lot of queer friends. We have a lot of interesting conversations about identity and legality and how crazy the world is. I recently got to witness a conversation that exemplified, at least to us, why this whole bi-trans debate (you know; does the term ‘bisexual’ negate transfolk and uphold the gender binary?) is really unnecessary. The setup: a lesbian, a bisexual, a pansexual and a transsexual (all terms used generally) walk into the room (we were not at a bar, but you can pretend). The lesbian and bisexual are dating, are both female, and are very affectionate; whenever they get caught in a PDA moment, someone inevitably goes “ewwwwww, lesbians!” At first it was funny, but after a while, the bisexual friend in question starting voicing how this actually made her feel uncomfortable and overlooked because it entirely undermined her bisexual identity. And some people were like, oh right. Our bad. But some other people were like, get over it, you’re a lesbian right now.

Cue the pansexual (female presenting) and transsexual (male presenting), who are also dating and are also fairly affectionate, but get less teasing from the general group. During one of THEIR recent PDA moments, the bisexual friend interjected, “ewwwwww, breeders!” Everyone laughed, but the pansexual girl, who may or may not actually be me, was like, oh hell no. Saying that entirely undermines my queer identity. And people were like, oh right. Our bad.

The bisexual friend said nothing, just let it sink it. One by one, the members of our little group realized that if we’re going to respect one queer’s preferred identity label, we’re going to have to respect another’s, too. We haven’t had our next group get-together yet, but I’m willing to bet there will be far fewer lesbian jokes aimed at my clever bisexual friend.

Moral of the story: There is no queer hierarchy, no right or wrong way to be who you are. We all identify differently because that difference makes us beautiful; respecting that difference makes our friendships beautiful. Don’t overlook identities you don’t understand; you never know when it’s going to come back to you.

"How to Make Love to a Trans Person" by Gabe Moses

I stumbled across this on Tumblr... it's very sexual content, so don't read it if that's not something you're interested in. But if you are, enjoy; it's very honest, frank, real, affirming, and I think just plain pretty overall.


Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

When A Partner Transitions: Part Two: Conflict

If you’ve never done it before, dating a trans person can be hard— especially if that person is someone you’re used to thinking of as a girl or boy already. Don’t feel guilty for the feelings you have about the transition—rather, explore them, be aware of them, be honest about them, and do your best to work through them. It can be really hard to feel like you have to give up the person you know, and really hard to start using a new name and/or pronoun because, let’s face it, you cared for that person strongly as they were, and maybe you don’t want them to change. The most important thing to remember in this situation is that your partner is not gone, and you are not now dating a stranger. Your partner did not change overnight; rather, they chose to share something with you that they’ve undoubtedly been thinking about privately for a long time. The person you love is still right there by your side. In fact, if you stay through the tough beginning parts, I can almost guarantee that you’ll begin to see a happier, more confident version of your lover emerge.

Beyond the “loss” experience, there’s the matter of your own private identity to attend to. If you’re queer, you’ve probably struggled a bit to come to that conclusion; you may have lost friends, fought with your family, broken a couple hearts, and spent a real long time choosing the words you use to identify with. If you identify as a lesbian, chances are, you’re proud of it; and if your partner is now a man, chances are, you’re facing a crisis. If you’re straight, dating a trans person is just as earth-shattering because you, my friend, are about to lose the heterosexual privilege that you have carried with you unknowingly every day of your life.

Can you continue identifying the way you always have? Probably—but be very conscious of how you do it. You don’t want to accidentally cause your transgender partner pain or offense. Be aware that this is probably even harder on your partner. Never, ever disregard their identity in order to cling to your own; it’s okay to acknowledge both. Go ahead and say you’re a lesbian dating a man—educate someone by example. Over time, you may begin to consider adopting a more fluid label, and you may even develop a strong sense of pride in your role in the trans world (I was a lesbian once too, you know!). Generally speaking, if your partner is transitioning, you are too. Embrace it. You’re about to have a wonderful experience. And remember—you’re not alone! We’re here!

When A Partner Transitions: Part One: Questions

I can TOTALLY say everything I want to say about this topic in four hundred words… Ha. This is going to be my first ever double post. Just promise to pick up my book someday.

Last week, we figured out that your sexual identity hinges largely on the gender identity of the people you date. So—what happens when your long-term partner comes out as transgender? Do you have to use the new pronoun all the time? Will you still be able to be physically intimate in the same way, or will that change too? Now that your partner’s come out as transgender, do you have to come out as something else? What is that even called? What if you’re comfortable with the label you’re already using, and don’t want to change it—is that okay?

Funny story—the answers to these, and the million other questions going through your head, are different for every single person. Surprise! No two transitions are the same. Each starting point is different, each ending point is different (Hormones? Surgery? Name change? Just a haircut?), and each individual journey has about as many factors and variables attached as a human life can possibly have. A trans person could opt for a whole bunch of surgery, or they could be perfectly happy with a wardrobe change. Your partner might “go stealth” and try to “pass” as a biological male or female all the time; your partner may also go the “trans pride” route, and tell anyone and everyone about what transitioning is like. There are also, of course, a million in-between scenarios. In each case, you are going to have to make some compromises—but remember, nothing happens overnight.

The bottom line with this is, you’re going to have to talk to your partner— a lot. The word “transgender” is a lot like “Christian” or “Democrat” in that lots of people use it, but it means something different to everyone, and no one aspect of the concept is guaranteed to be real to any given person who claims the label. The only never-fail rule for dating a trans person is this: to stay with your partner, you’ll have to accept this new aspect of their identity. You will have to have some long, honest conversations, and you will have to compromise—and you WILL make some mistakes. Let it happen. You’re both new at this; you’re trying, and your partner will appreciate that.

Dating a transgender person is tricky; part two of this post (which is already scheduled to post, yay planning ahead!) gets more into the potential difficulties. Stay tuned…

Dating 101

Mainstream heterosexual dating is pretty straightforward; boy meets girl. Queer dating is more complicated because queer people tend to identify themselves based on who they date. Thus, every time you enter into a relationship (or even find someone attractive), the words you use to identify yourself may change.

This whole defining-your-identity-by-who-you-date thing is no trouble at all for someone on either end of the Kinsey scale (i.e., straight or gay); it’s the rest of us, in the middle, that have trouble with it. Say you identify as bisexual, but are committed to a woman and present yourself as a man. Anyone who sees you with your partner assumes that you are a heterosexual guy. If you correct the assumption, a whole bunch of other ones—that you’re cheating on her, etc—are quickly and inevitably made. This phenomenon—bisexual invisibility—is just the tip of the iceberg of problems that arise from using the gender binary to define who we date.

Last week we talked about how no two women have the exact same gender; thus, no two people you’ve dated have had the exact same gender, although you probably have a certain “type” (tomboys, athletes, etc). Sooner or later, you figure out your type, and use that fact to choose the binary words you identify with—gay, straight, bisexual. But what if you realize your “type” isn’t about boy or girl, but about something else? Maybe you’re attracted to artists regardless of gender; maybe you’re specifically attracted to androgyny (the melding of feminine and masculine traits). When this is true, you aren’t attracted to people who fit into the girl-boy binary; thus, using words that adhere to this binary doesn’t do your personal identity justice. Tough, right? To express yourself more completely, you can use labels that acknowledge and support the fluidity of gender. The word “pansexual,” for example, essentially takes bisexuality to the next step, and means the person is open to dating men, women, and transfolk. I like to identify using the word “queer” because all it really means is I’m not heterosexual; thus, if I date a woman for a while, a transman, and then a biological man, my label doesn’t have to change.

Speaking of which, here’s the real monkey wrench: if identity hinges on attraction, what happens to your identity when your partner’s changes? If your lesbian lover comes out as a man, can you still be in a lesbian relationship? I love this one—I’ve seen it several times now, and have a couple stories to share with you next week!